Apostrophe to the power of Love ... its intimate connection with generous and social Sensibility ... allusion to that beautiful passage in the beginning of the book of Genesis, which represents the happiness of Paradise itself incomplete, till love was superadded to its other blessings ... the dreams of future felicity which a lively imagination is apt to cherish, when Hope is animated by refined attachment ... this disposition to combine, in one imaginary scene of residence, all that is pleasing in our estimate of happiness, compared to the skill of the great artist who personified perfect beauty, in the picture of Venus, by an assemblage of the most beautiful features he could find ... a summer and winter evening described, as they may be supposed to arise in the mind of one who wishes, with enthusiasm, for the union of friendship and retirement. Hope and imagination inseparable agents ... even in those contemplative moments when our imagination wanders beyond the boundaries of this world, our minds are not unattended with an impression that we shall some day have a wider and distinct prospect of the universe, instead of the partial glimpse we now enjoy. The last and most sublime influence of Hope is the concluding topic of the poem ... the predominance of a belief in a future state over the terrors attendant on dissolution ... the baneful influence of that sceptical philosophy which bars us from such comforts ... allusion to the fate of a suicide ... episode of Conrad and Ellenore ... conclusion. PLEASURES OF HOPE. PART II. In joyous youth, what soul hath never known Thought, feeling, taste, harmonious to its own? Who hath not paused while Beauty’s pensive eye Asked from his heart the homage of a sigh? Who hath not owned, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name? There be, perhaps, who barren hearts avow, Cold as the rocks on Torneo’s hoary brow; There be, whose loveless wisdom never failed, In self-adoring pride securely mailed:— But, triumph not, ye peace-enamoured few! Fire, Nature, Genius, never dwelt with you! For you no fancy consecrates the scene Where rapture uttered vows, and wept between; ’Tis yours, unmoved, to sever and to meet; No pledge is sacred, and no home is sweet! Who that would ask a heart to dulness wed, The waveless calm, the slumber of the dead? No; the wild bliss of Nature needs alloy, And fear and sorrow fan the fire of joy! And say, without our hopes, without our fears, Without the home that plighted love endears, Without the smile from partial beauty won, Oh! what were man?—a world without a sun.